Warrior in Heart
by Dante Morose
Summary: Hojo's lab. Dissidia. Awake or asleep, the fight is never over. How do you keep fighting when freedom is an unattainable dream? More importantly, how can you end the fighting if it means losing yourself?
1. Chapter 1

So, I've wanted to write this for while a while, but I have never played Dissidia or Dissidia 012 before. All my knowledge comes from cutscene movies and wikis. However, I do know Crisis Core fairly well, although time in the lab is a mystery to all of us…So while I will do my best to stick with facts, please forgive me for my ignorance in Dissidia 012 and the creative liberties I take to fill in what I don't know or understand. When it comes to Duodecim, I'm almost in the dark as much as Cloud here…

Dedicated to Ryma.

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><p>Cloud's head roughly jerked from the basin of water. He could feel the tight grip on his hair pulling him back further while he sputtered and struggled to give his air-starved lungs relief.<p>

"Leave him alone!" Zack's voice sounded distant in his water-logged ears. "Can't you see you're drowning him?"

Cloud coughed for a moment before feeling the hand on his head shoving him forward and downward. With his hands cuffed behind his back, he was unable to brace himself and therefore found his face submerged in the water once more. Zack's antagonistic words and pleas were drowned out along with the sounds of his heart monitor bleeping and Hojo's directions. He didn't know if this was punishment for his failure to perform as well has he had done the previous day or if this was another way of pushing his limits till they could be reduced to little notes and numbers on Hojo's clipboard. Whatever it was, Cloud was having a hard time breathing. In his head, he counted five times being forced to hold his breath underwater till he nearly passed out. They measured his oxygen levels with their geeky monitors hooked up to his body, but Cloud began to wonder if they even paid attention to how little breath he grabbed between dunks. Right then he had only been submerged twenty seconds and he was already feeling faint.

Black spots danced in his eyes and he opened his mouth, unable to stop himself from taking a desperate swallow of water although begging for air. At that moment his head rose again and was yanked back till the roots of his hair began to tear out. Angered, Cloud threw his head back all the way, smacking the guard in the nose, surprising the man more than hurting him, and thereby knocking the grip on his hair loose. Cloud crumpled to the floor, his forehead catching the table in front of him due to unbalance. Cloud bent over on his knees coughing and gasping, the water burning in his throat as it came out; if he could have cried in pain, he would have.

"Spike?!" The water in Cloud's ears still clogged the sound, but Zack's panic made it through somehow. He couldn't answer, however, and continued spitting up water near the feet of the disgusted guard. The said guard threw a punch to Cloud's head, snapping it downward and sending a shock through his neck. Cloud kept his head ducked, throwing his arms over his sopping spikes since he expected more hits; but instead, Hojo's face suddenly appeared in front of his own. Cloud choked on his breath in an involuntary gasp.

"You're growing weaker." Hojo observed disdainfully.

"Yeah, and whose fault is that?" Zack shouted across the room bitterly.

Hojo spared him a glance before motioning the guard to remove him from one of the twin tubes and take him from the room. Cloud tried to watch Zack as he left, hoping it would calm himself, because it was _so _hard not to get creeped out with Hojo breathing on him. Zack gave him a reassuring stare in return and managed a scarring glare at the greasy mannered "scientist" before the guard pushed him out of the room. Hojo turned his attention back to Cloud who still had water spilling from his lower lip.

"You are getting too weak to use," Hojo continued from before. "You may yet be of value to me, but if your performance doesn't keep up, _someone,_" Hojo's eyes trailed to the door Zack had barely exited, "is going to pay." Cloud's eyes widened in understanding. Hojo _never _made a threat he didn't follow through. "Do we understand each other?" the question was rhetorical, but Cloud nodded.

"That goes for compliance as well," Hojo stood and the guard hauled Cloud's shuddering body to its feet. Hojo's eyes grazed over Cloud, checking his physique while scrawny assistants began to free Cloud from the wires and tubes inserted into and tacked onto his arms and chest. He kept his body taut and his gaze unwaveringly hostile, though the image was shattered by the way his lungs were still heaving for oxygen. Once everything was removed, Hojo nodded for him to be taken away.

Cloud hadn't yet managed how to distinguish one boring hallway from the next, but he knew enough about the cells in the hallways to know he would be returning to his and Zack's. It brought a small comfort knowing he wasn't alone down there. In the past, he had heard the groans and screams of other prisoners from other cells, but he had never seen them. All he knew was that they lay behind solid panels and thick stone walls like him and Zack. That was all he needed to know. The screams were enough to give him nightmares; he didn't need faces surfacing in his sleep too.

But lately it was getting quieter. They were getting called in for tests more regularly than before, and Cloud couldn't convince himself it was because they were more interesting than the rest – although that might be true. No, the quiet felt not undisturbed or submissive, but rather…empty. Like those other people – if they _had _been people – just weren't there anymore.

Goosebumps rose on his arms as he passed the other cells, presumably empty. The silence from those closed-off rooms scared him, and, when his thoughts dwelled on it too long, saddened him. Another reason giving credence to his assumption was the two guards stationed outside their cell door. True, Zack gave everyone trouble, and he _was _a SOLDIER, but surely that was not the only reason for the added security. Zack told him not to think about it so much, but in their world stripped of information what else could he think about?

Marched straight to the door, Cloud waited for the code to be punched in. He begged Zack would be waiting on the inside and not gone off for more tests. Though he didn't want to answer to Zack's concerned gaze, Cloud needed him there just to know he wasn't alone. He felt strangely light-headed, and the nausea in his stomach from earlier that day had returned. Something wasn't right with him, and Cloud needed Zack around to snap him out of it if Jenova came around looking for a fight.

The metal panel slid open and Cloud passed between the two stationed guards. The darkness of the cell welcomed him and the cold walls stretched out toward him till they hit his wet head and neck and drew a chattering shiver from his teeth. Cloud looked around anxiously.

"Zack?"

A grunt originated from the bathroom nook and Zack's head popped out, smile stretching not quite ear to ear. "Hey, Spike." He noticed Cloud trembling. Tossing him their only hand towel – a grimy one at that – he ordered, "Dry yourself off. You look like a chocobo chick climbed out of a puddle. I'll be out in a minute."

Cloud scooped up the cloth from where it had fallen on the floor and scrubbed at his hair. Inside the bathroom, Zack's muttered curses about mako clinging to skin bounced off the walls and echoed into the main room. Cloud's feet led him to his cot where he sat down dejectedly, towel limp in his idle hands. Hojo did not make empty threats, and if he wanted to keep Zack from more punishment than he gave himself, it lay on Cloud to exceed his aptitude and push himself harder than ever before.

Except…he couldn't do it.

He already gave his all just to avoid punishment himself, although that didn't seem to be enough.

_I could help you_, a serpentine, and _much _too familiar female voice intruded his thoughts.

"Shut up," Cloud snapped aloud. Zack's talking tendencies must have been rubbing off on him, but hearing his own voice helped him distinguish which thoughts were his own and which were Jenova's.

"Didja say something, Spikey?" Zack questioned from the bathroom.

Cloud shook his head, though upon realizing Zack couldn't see the gesture, he called out softly, "No." Zack didn't need to know. There was nothing he could do about it anyway.

Presently Zack emerged from the confines of the bathroom and slumped on his cot across the room from Cloud. They sat in uncharacteristic silence, Cloud lost in trying to understand where the "off" feeling residing in his gut had come from and Zack watching Cloud to determine his state of mind. Zack finally broke the air with the classic question:

"How are you feeling?"

Cloud shrugged and raised a limp hand to shake out the remaining water droplets sliding down his spikes and slipping under the neck of his t-shirt.

Zack tried to pry it from him. "It's not Jenova is it?" Cloud blinked and wiped a few wet lines on his neck dry with the towel so Zack went on. "I hate to admit this, but…Hojo's right, for once. You _are _doing worse than normal. You okay?"

_No_.

But Cloud didn't say it. "Just tired, I guess." He dropped the hand towel to the floor, letting the dirty fabric pile in a crumpled mess at his feet. Moving slowly, Cloud twisted around and got under the worn blanket lying tangled on his cot.

"You sure that's all?" Zack tried one last time.

Cloud had a headache, and his stomach felt like it was feeding on itself to curb the gnawing pain of starvation, but for now, he just wanted to be left alone. "Yeah, just tired."

Trying a different angle, Zack asked, "You gonna wait up for dinner?"

Cloud was _really _hungry, but his eyelids were already drooping over mako-bright irises. "No," his voice barely broke a whisper.

A pause, then, "I'm worried about you, buddy."

Cloud turned over to face the wall. The ever-grey, totally thought absorbing wall. He raised his voice slightly so Zack could hear him, muttering a soft, "I know" before closing his eyes and praying for relief from the endless torment. He was so tired of fighting. Never a break from it, and his will to survive waning the longer he fought. And end to the fighting. That was what he wanted. An end…

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><p><em>The heat burned from outside his closed eyes. The cell's ever present chill was gone, replaced with a scouring heat all around him like he stood in the heart of a bonfire. Confused, he opened his eyes.<em>

_A startled gasp caught in his throat. All around him, spurts of lava rose from around the platforms he and others stood on. Where _was_ he?_

_More importantly, _who_ was he?_

_He spared a moment to glance over himself, trying to attach some identity to his appearance. Bone white boots, plain black pants. His eyes wandered further upward, the part of his mind_ not _preoccupied with trying to remember who he was keenly aware of the stares he was receiving from the others around him. A simple belt, a protective vest, a bulky shoulder guard on his left shoulder, and a vaguely familiar sword gripped in one gloved hand. Bringing a hand up, he felt the soft tips of hair sticking straight in the air._ Oh no. _He had a Mohawk?! No, his hair was sticking up all over the place, not just in the middle. So he was someone with permanent bad-hair-day. That, he could handle. The blond strands seemed to part off into spikes, and he was able to see some for himself as his bangs were long enough to reach his nose._

Spike.

Spikey.

_Something in his memory stirred at the word. Was that his name? No, not quite. It felt comfortable, familiar even, but that couldn't be his name._

_His name still a mystery, he looked past the bangs hanging loosely in front of his face and started to examine the rest of the…people gathered around on the purple rock-face. There had to be at least a dozen of them all together._

_Each was unquestionably unique, based solely on appearance, and the diverse facial expressions suggested much more than their armor could show. Their armor or their lack of it… One slender face stood out among all others. Immediately he was assaulted by a pressure behind his eyes as he stared into the glowing green of the other's eyes. Something was familiar about that face and the long silver tendrils of hair nearly sweeping the ground. He knew he knew this man. More than that: he knew he_ hated _him. But why? Who was this man? And back to that persistent question: who was he?_

_As if by answer, a deep voice rippled through the air. "Welcome, warrior of Chaos." He looked to the source and found himself restraining his every instinct to back-step into the lava. The creature sitting on the horribly majestic throne was more demon then human. With pale yellow skin and skulls seemingly tattooed onto it, the monster gave the appearance of death, but with horns, _two _pairs of arms, leathery wings, and a tail, he gave the impression of dissonance personified._

_What had he said?_

"Welcome, warrior of Chaos."

The monster is Chaos.

_His eyes flicked back to the stolid man with those glowing green slits. He had seen those eyes before too._

And I am his warrior, like those gathered here.

_No, that was not right._

_Staring into those green eyes, a surge of anger flooded him. He knew who he was, and that was the one thing_ nobody _would take from him._

I am subject to no one. My name is Cloud Strife.

* * *

><p>Cloud gasped heavily as he woke. His body shook from cold and fear. In the back of his mind he knew he had dreamed, but the harder he tried to remember, the less he <em>wanted <em>to remember.

Panting and disconcerted, Cloud tried to regain his sense of self. Closing his eyes, he wished it all away. Suddenly Sephiroth's eyes burned like phosphene under his closed eyelids, breaking through the barrier he had set around his mind to protect him from fear. A startled cry escaped his throat, and he scrambled for the bathroom. Turning on the sink, Cloud cupped his hands under the water. The cold water met his face seconds later, waking him up entirely and washing the green eyes from his memory. The water ran unhindered down the drain while Cloud stood there, hands on each side of the porcelain sink holding him up shakily. He felt like crying, but he didn't know why. Nightmares didn't do this to him, at least not normal nightmares. But then, since when did he have a dismissible nightmare since coming to Hojo's freak lab?

"You okay, Spike?" Zack came around the corner, a slight yawn covering the worry in his voice.

"Yeah," but Cloud shook his head in contradiction of himself. "Just had a crazy dream." He reached to shut off the water.

"Huh," Zack leaned back against the doorframe. "Like suddenly finding yourself in a city full of rabid fangirls, and you're the target?" Cloud's look asked him if he was serious, and Zack snorted softly. "I'm just kidding."

Cloud shook his head and pushed past him. Zack followed and got back on his own cot when he saw Cloud getting settled on his own.

"You gonna be able to get back to sleep, kid?" Zack asked softly.

Cloud frowned at his remark, but nodded. "Yeah." He lay silently for a few minutes with his eyes closed. Presently Zack's snoring filled the room, but Cloud remained awake, unable to sleep after such a vivid yet unrecallable dream.

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><p>Thoughts? Praise? Criticism? Suggestions?<p>

If there's anything you want to see here, I'm open to suggestions as my chapter outlines are not inflexible. However, that does not mean they will appear.

-Dante


	2. Chapter 2

Cloud still hadn't gotten back to sleep with the door slid open, revealing their "personal" guards filling the doorway. Shielding his eyes with his arm, Cloud sat up slowly. His stomach growled in eager anticipation of what they called "food". On the other side of the room, Zack stirred and motioned as if to rise. With a groan, he stretched and got out from under his blanket. His yawn filled the silence in the air, and, rubbing his eyes, he questioned the guards.

"What gives? We barely get enough sleep as it is."

Zack had a point. Preoccupied with his dream – nightmare, really – Cloud failed to realize the guards were bringing their meal earlier than usual. Only, their hands were empty, and their stance indicated that it was time for Hojo's whacked up tests. But, why now?

"Let's go," one guard made as if to step in if they didn't come.

Zack frowned, and exchanged a confused and concerned glance with Cloud, but they got up and moved out of their own accord, preferring that to being dragged to where ever it was they were being taken.

Cloud slumped down a bit as he walked. Regret filled his stomach in place of food as he wished he stayed up the night before to eat. But that could hardly be helped now.

Zack kept throwing out questions as they walked, but neither of the staunch men replied. Not that they ever talked much. Cloud presumed they believed it made their job easier if they distanced themselves from interacting with the "specimens".

Zack noticed Cloud's head hanging slightly. "Hey, you okay?"

Cloud didn't respond. It wasn't a rhetorical question, but it could have been.

Zack lowered his voice into a deeper tone of seriousness. "Did you ever get to sleep again?"

Cloud gave a small shake of his head.

"You could have woken me up," Zack offered.

Cloud shook his head with a small shrug. "Why? You can't make me go to sleep."

"Oh, yeah?" Zack grinned. "Don't think I don't know that my stories put you to sleep."

Cloud's mouth twitched upward. "More like whenever you talk."

Zack grinned proudly.

A few corridors and turns later they ended up in the assistant's "medical lab" where Zack and Cloud, and presumably others, were normally treated for their exclusively medical injuries that couldn't be cared for in the lab itself.

Cloud wished he didn't know why they were there. Instinctively, however, he did. While Hojo's methods were questionable at best and his humanity void, he _did _want his subjects alive and at the peak of their health when not under added stress from experimentation. Since Cloud's performance rate was declining, Hojo was having him and Zack undergo a standard physical to check for anything that might be hindering him.

So maybe Cloud's problems weren't his fault. That didn't make them easier to bear.

The guards that had led them in left at the nod from the head doctor. They all called him a doctor, but at times it seemed he barely knew what he was doing. Zack suggested he was just another lab assistant with more medical training than the rest of them, but as with everything else, it was just a guess.

"Shirts off." The brisk command cut the air.

Zack drew out an exaggerated sigh before complying. Pulling the cotton fabric over his neck, it left his hedgehog hair staticky and free-flying. He watched as a few strands tried to float in front of him before grabbing his hair and smoothing it in annoyance. The doctor gravitated toward Zack with a stethoscope about his neck and the cuff of a blood pressure gauge in hand.

At the doctor's back, Cloud began to remove his own shirt, pulling his head through and then shrugging his arms out. Shirt halfway off, he froze. Imprinted into his left shoulder was an ugly burn-like scar – red and smooth in the shape of a monstrous face. The horns curled around almost over his left shoulder, and a crude face lay incised on his left pectoral, a wing extending curling around it and curving back upward. The whole of it was pink like an old burn scar, but painful like a new wound. He hadn't even felt it till seeing it.

And for some reason, that face seemed familiar.

Uneasiness leaked into his stomach and spread through him till he just wanted to draw his shirt back over his shoulders and keep it hidden; but the shock at finding something so grotesque on his skin stopped him from reacting in time. The doctor was almost done checking Zack, and would turn to face Cloud any second. Cloud didn't really care about hiding the mark except he knew what would happen if someone else saw it. He would have Hojo to answer to. If Hojo didn't know what it was, he would want to find out, and Cloud shuddered at the thought.

Zack noticed Cloud standing with the shirt over his head but still not off his arms. Quirking an eyebrow in confusion and growing concern, he asked in a low voice only Cloud could hear, "What's up?"

Cloud glanced from Zack to the mark and then at the assistant's back. Anxiety showed in his expression as he truly did not know what to do. The doctor began to turn around, head bowed, as he went to the desk to scribble down numbers.

"Shirt off," he barked at Cloud.

Cloud closed his eyes. They would force it off him if he dared resist. There really was no choice. So, letting his arms drop, the shirt slid from his limbs and fell limply on his cold bare feet.

Zack stared in shock for a moment, eyes locked on what caught Cloud's attention at first. Then the doctor turned around to start on Cloud. The sphygmomanometer dropped from his hand, and with the rest of his body frozen in fearful astonishment, his hand reached for the phone on the desk, punching in the numbers for Hojo.

Zack's trance broke at the action. Slowly he approached Cloud, but with his one free hand, the doctor tried to hold him back, "No one touches him till Hojo sees this." In one motion, Zack removed the assistant's hand and pushed past him easily.

Grabbing Cloud by his arms, Zack studied the mark for a moment before looking Cloud in the eyes. Zack's eyes were hard as he demanded, "How long have you had this, Cloud?"

Cloud clenched his teeth, shaking his head. As far as he knew, only the past couple hours. Behind them the assistant talked rapidly into the phone. They only had minutes before the inevitable separation.

"I said hands off him!" the doctor shouted, drawing the attention of the guard in the hallway. As reinforcements drifted in, the doctor paused his chatter to motion to Zack and order, "Restrain him."

The guard lumbered forward, laying an unyielding hand on Zack's arm, but Zack shot back with a powerful punch to his face and kneed him sharply in the gut before turning back to Cloud and seizing his slender shoulders.

"Is this what was bothering you last night?"

Cloud shook his head 'no'.

Zack wasn't going to let him get away with it this time. "Where did you get this? What happened?"

"I don't know, okay!" Cloud protested, pulling himself out of Zack's hold. Behind Zack, the guard rose raised a fist, face pulled into a tight grimace. "Za–" Cloud tried to warn him, but Zack pivoted and tackled the guard before the word reached completion.

They tumbled on the floor, one on top of the other, but only for seconds as another guard entered the room. The two of them managed to cuff Zack's hands behind his back and around the chair leg of the office bench.

Cloud stood, swaying on his feet, not knowing what to do. Either Hojo would come to him or he would go to Hojo. It wouldn't make a difference because either way, Cloud knew he'd be stuck in examination for the next few hours. He moved his eyes to look at Zack on the floor. While Cloud expected Zack to shout threats at their captors, he didn't. His eyes stared Cloud into a corner with his anxiety – his _fear. _Zack was afraid.

But, why?

Zack never feared anything – not even Hojo. Maybe he feared what Hojo could _do, _but otherwise, he had enough stalwart bravery for the both of them.

"Take Specimen C to Lab A," the doctor waved a hand at the guards.

The smaller guard took Cloud by the arm, even under the doctor's glare of disapproval, and directed him through the door.

* * *

><p>Hojo slammed the book on the cart top for the fourth time, causing Cloud's muscles to jolt against the bonds holding him down.<p>

"…No, but it would have to be imprinted directly, not through the mind," Hojo muttered. Cloud no longer cared what Hojo was going on about. From the minute Cloud had entered the lab, Hojo had assaulted him with questions while studying the strange figure on Cloud's skin. Things had escalated once Hojo produced that ridiculous book and, consulting it, tried rubbing the scars off with things varying from water to acidic mako.

Cloud wanted to close his eyes and forget about where he was, but with Hojo leering at him through the extra sensitive magnifying glass, it was hard to do so.

"How did–?"

"I already told you!" Cloud shouted in frustration and exhaustion. "I don't know how it happened. I don't 'remember' _anything_!"

Hojo's faced darkened with an idea. The look drew an involuntary shudder from Cloud. Zack and Cloud knew what that look meant. Hojo knew what he wanted, and now he knew _exactly _how to get it. Hojo brandished the book like a weapon, pushing the open pages in Cloud's face. "Do you recognize it?" He barely restrained from being frantic.

Cloud took a deep gulp of air to calm his frazzled senses. "No, I don't." Not like he could see the picture with it so close to his face anyway.

"You know who this is!" Hojo waved the book once. Cloud had never seen him so excited, and Cloud had never felt more terrified. When Hojo got ecstatic about something, he transformed into a rabid fanatic.

Cloud stared at the picture, shaking his head, repeating over and over, "No. I don't know what that is. I don't. I–"

Hojo flipped a page in the book suddenly. The illustration on this page resembled the mark he now bore, and it was an eerie silhouette of the image of the first page.

That mark looked familiar. Cloud knew he recognized it. It was almost like that huge form in his dream last night. He could barely remember anything, but he thought the figure had a name…he had been the one speaking. His name was…Chaos. It seemed to jump at him from the back of his mind like an old memory coming to light. Chaos. The mark of Chaos. But what that make him? Chaos's warrior? But it was just a dream! A sick feeling rose in Cloud's stomach. No, if there was anything he had learned from Jenova's presence in his mind, nothing could be regarded as _just _a dream. But if it wasn't then what was it?

Cloud's eyes widened.

Hojo's face cracked in a snide smirk.

* * *

><p>-Dante<p> 


End file.
